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a forked tongue.”

The Weaver woman grunted, unhappy at being upstaged, but she let the girl speak.

“He was destroying everything, but you kept him from finding the, the – I don’t know what it was, the power that you held – and you burned him to dust.”

Gamarron kept himself still. He had spoken to no one except Kest of the demon lord, but the girl’s description matched him well. He kept his tone noncommittal. “And how is it that these visions come to you?”

“I was touched by the Pure Light,” Nira sighed, sounding as if she were confessing a crime. “It did something to me. When I touch someone, sometimes I can see their future. When I met her,” she said, tossing her head at the older woman, “it was the first time it happened. I know she’s a mean one–”

“Excuse me?” growled Renna.

Nira ignored her, jaw jutting defiantly. “…but she was there in the vision. Helping you. Guiding you.”

Pure Light? Of all the impossible things. He had heard the old chants that spoke of lethal shafts from the heavens, but the stories said no one survived them. The idea that someone could come through such a trial and somehow gain power from it… skepticism was too weak a word for how he felt. And yet, she described the demon lord, a being that none had seen but he. If it were a coincidence, it was an incredibly large one. Even if the girl was running some sort of confidence game on him, as seemed likely, still she had made a one-in-a-million guess.

“Interesting,” was the response he allowed himself. If they keep speaking, they’ll say something that will give the game away.

“It’s how we knew where to find you,” Renna said. “I saw you standing in front of the Great Coliseum, and I knew that is where we would meet. All we had to do was wait for you.” She spread her hands. “And here you are.”

“Indeed,” Gamarron agreed blandly. “How exactly do these visions work?”

Nira shrugged, looking aside. “It was only a few weeks ago that… that it happened. I’m just starting to figure out what I can do.”

Hmm. No pronouncements of expertise and mysterious power? He revised his assessment. This girl wasn’t trying to scam him. More likely she was delusional. The older woman had to be the one running the con.

“She has to touch the person,” offered the Weaver. “And then they both see – well, something that involves that individual. It seems to always be something important, though it could be death for one person and a wedding for another. Can you imagine how useful she could be?”

“Eminently,” Gamarron said. “And the things she sees, do they always come to pass? Is it a certain thing?” They both paused and looked at each other. Aha.

“I don’t think so,” said the girl uncertainly. “There was one man I touched whose death I saw happening later, in a different place, but then…” she hesitated, trailing off.

“But then I killed him,” said the old Hand roughly. “It was a messy job in the dark and we were in a hurry, but he probably died right there.”

“He might have survived,” Nira protested weakly. “There were others nearby, and he’s an important man. Maybe they got him to a surgeon. What I saw could still happen. But… no, I don’t know if the things I see are certain. They may only be possibilities.”

“Even the possibility of what I saw is more than enough to bind me to you, to offer my service,” Renna said. She knelt before him, hands clasped. “Let us come with you. There is so much we could achieve together, you and me. We can shape the world.”

The services of a determined, resourceful Hand and of someone who could see beyond the now: it was an impressive offer if one was inclined to power. Gamarron couldn’t quite figure out what the end game of this con was. Taking his money, most likely, though it all seemed awfully elaborate for just that. Disrupting his homeland? The demon lord had done that already. He didn’t know what they were up to, and he simply didn’t care to find out. They had come to exactly the wrong man if they wanted someone to swallow a fantastical tale.

“If you touched me right now, what would I see?” he asked Nira. “Would you be able to conjure a vision for me?”

The girl held out her hand. “We can find out.”

Gamarron was surprised. He thought she would give some excuse or find a reason to delay. He didn’t reach for the outstretched hand. “I think that if I take your hand, I am likely to see whatever thing the Weaver woman’s psychedelic plants and poisons can produce, and you’ll attempt to bend my perceptions to fit whatever scam you’re working. No, child, I don’t think I’ll touch you.”

The girl shrugged. She seemed awfully ambivalent for someone professing great power.

He turned to Renna. “I am disappointed. I had hoped, given your earlier assistance, that I might be wrong about your kind. It saddens me that I was not. I thank you both for the care you have given my friend.” He bent to the bed to pick Kest up. “We will take our leave.”

He heard a tsk from Renna. “I’ve had enough. Here’s how this is going to go.”

He heard footsteps and immediately loosened his body, letting go of Kest and sending his weight into his knees and feet. The most likely attack from a woman like her was to grab him by the robes, spin him about, and deliver a stinging slap. He deadened the skin of his cheeks and waited for it.

“Renna, don’t!” cried the girl.

She did not slap him. Instead, he felt a sudden pinprick at the base of his neck right in the triangle between the collar of his robes and where his long hair parted and fell forward over his shoulders. A needle? Has she poisoned me? He gasped and slapped

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